Would the Real World Even Care
by StarWarrior72
Summary: When Luke, who has been raised by his father, is catapulted into the galaxy outside of his father's castles, and battle fields, he realizes that his father may not be the perfect parent he always assumed he was.
1. Chapter 1

Luke stood before the Rebel jury, silent. He wouldn't let them frighten him. How disappointed would his father be if he let them do that? He stood a little taller, carefully peeking out under his hood.

"Remove your hood, Sith," commanded the judge.

Luke shook his head slowly.

"Speak."

Again, Luke shook his head.

"You have to communicate with us if you want a fair trial."

Luke closed his eyes quietly. Then he opened them again, held his chained hands up where the jury could see them, and quickly signed, "You won't be fair even if I can."

The judge huffed. "What was that?"

One of the jury piped up, "Sign language."

"Well, what did he say?"

Again, Luke tipped his head up so that he could see the Rebels surrounding him. The one who had spoken had a triumphant expression, which quickly faded as he realized that he was now expected to understand Luke's signing.

"I… uh, I have no idea. There was an F in there."

Luke rolled his eyes. No wonder the rebels weren't in charge of the galaxy. They couldn't even communicate with him!

The judge spoke to the man who'd recognized the sign language. "Find someone who can understand him, please."

Luke made a mental note that they were kinder to one another than Imperials were.

One of Luke's guards walked up and took his arm. Luke considered struggling, but decided against it. Moments later, he was glad he hadn't fought. The woman had simply pushed him into a chair. He sat still, silent, trying to seem frightening in some small way. By now, his father would have the entire room shaking in fear.

But Luke was not his father. He lived quietly in his father's shadow, learning when Vader felt like teaching, and sitting by noiselessly when he didn't.

Instead of trying to be imposing, Luke relaxed back in the chair, to show, at least, that he wasn't frightened of them. He knew they were all staring at him, and hoped that his face was properly hidden. He debated with himself about making sure his hood was far enough forward, but decided that he'd really rather not show them his hands either.

After several long minutes, the man came back into the room. Luke looked up slowly. The man walked forward, thrust a datapad into Luke's hands, and regained his place in the stands.

Luke looked down at the pad. A little light flickered, telling him that the whole court could see what he typed in. He decided that the screen must be behind him, and considered turning to check. But, no, Father would tell him that it didn't matter as long as they could understand his words.

"Why won't you remove your hood?" Asked the judge.

Luke typed furiously, "I'd just rather not. Can you accept that?"

"And why won't you speak?"

Rather annoyed, Luke typed back, "Nosy, aren't we?"

"I have to gain all the information I can. What species are you, anyway?"

Luke sighed. "Human."

He sensed the judge's thoughts, sensed they were shared by many of the court. He's stunted. There's something wrong with him. He's dumb and deformed.

Luke considered correcting them, but thought better of it. Father would say that as long as he retained his dignity it didn't matter.

"What do you have to say about the lives you've ended today?" The judge asked.

Luke looked down at the datapad and thought hard. He wanted to apologise. He always did. He hadn't hated the people who'd died. But, again, Father would say that it was unimportant. "I only kill when there's no other choice."

"Do you know what we fight for, Sith?"

"I know what you think you fight for." Luke typed quickly. "I don't think you could run the galaxy properly, though."

He could sense the man's anger. Hidden in the folds of his hood, he smiled slightly. This was more like it. Fear would have been better, but at least this showed that he could influence the Rebel.

"Do you have any defence at all?"

"No."

"Then I'm afraid that you will be executed. Please stand. Your guard will lead you."

Luke looked down at the little pad in his hands. "You don't really care."

The judge didn't answer, so Luke stood up. He felt his guard's hand on his shoulder. A small, dark corner of his heart cried out for his father. He didn't particularly want to die. He would rather go home to his father. He wanted to say goodbye, at least.

But Father would be disappointed in him even just for feeling that way. If he said anything out loud, Father would be disgraced. So he just followed quietly.

He hoped he was appearing uncaring. He hoped they didn't know that, hidden in his long sleeves, his hands were shaking. He was going to die. He would never see his father again. There would be no more training sessions. No more battles fought side by side. No more lessons in strategy.

He pushed the thoughts aside again, made his hands still, and walked along silently. He realized he was slumped a little bit. He straightened his spine and walked more quickly, making sure his steps were even. He would be brave. His father would hear that he had died bravely, wouldn't he? The rebels would tell him, wouldn't they?

Suddenly, a little worm of apprehension found its way into his heart. What if his father didn't know what had happened to him? What if the Rebels were too cowardly to tell him what had happened? What if Father wasted his time searching the galaxy for his lost son?

Luke told himself that his father would know that he'd died. He promised himself that his father would know.

Suddenly, he was jerked to a stop. The woman holding his arm let go slowly. He looked up to see that he had barely been taken anywhere, just across the little room. Standing before him was a young man. Luke guessed that he was about twenty. He held a blaster and wore a large smirk on his face.

Luke stood and waited. He wondered absently what dying would feel like. Would the Rebel be kind enough to shoot him in the heart or head so that it was almost instantaneous, or would he want to watch Luke suffer and give him a more painful mortal wound? Luke wondered what his father would think if he were in this situation. His father would have been able to save himself, Luke decided.

Why hasn't he shot yet? Luke thought, slightly irritated. What's he waiting for? Does he think I'm going to beg for mercy?

"Why don't you take off your hood, Sith? Or are you scared to see your death?"

Luke signed rapidly, and was surprised to see the man nodding, as though in understanding.

"Well then, why not take off your hood? We'll all see your face sooner or later anyway." The man taunted.

Luke looked at him calculatingly, and slowly reached up. The man grinned as Luke started to take his hood off. Luke was cautious, pulling it back very slowly until a bit of his hair poked out. Then he decided to bite the bullet and pull it off. He flicked it back as quickly as he could and stared defiantly at the man with the blaster.

The man froze with the blaster pointed straight at Luke's skull, his mouth agape.

Luke waited impatiently. The man was going to be kind enough to shoot him in the head. It wouldn't hurt. What would his father think if he saw him now? Father had told him not to remove his hood. But, Father wouldn't mind. Would he? No. He was kinder than that. He would allow Luke a moment to feel the sunlight on his face once before he died.

"Well? Aren't you going to shoot?" He asked finally.

The man gaped some more.

Luke sighed. So much for it being fast. Excruciating pain as he died would be better than this terrible anticipation.

The man started to stammer. "H-h-h-how old a-are y-you?"

Luke frowned slightly, "Eleven."

His age had never mattered to anyone before. Then again, now that he thought about it, only his father knew. And he supposed it had mattered to his father. Until he was seven. Then his father had started taking him everywhere with him. Now he looked past the barrel of the blaster into the man's face, and it occurred to him that he had never found anyone his age in the battlefields. He remembered how his tutor had scowled when Luke had had to miss a lesson so that he could be off fighting beside his Father.

"Waste of a perfectly good mind," the man had snarled.

At the time, Luke had looked at him strangely and picked up his pack to join his father, but now he wondered what the man had meant.

Wasn't it normal for a child to be working with their parents when they turned seven? It didn't seem strange to Luke. It wasn't like his father had kicked him out onto the streets when he turned ten as he'd heard of some parents doing.

"Eleven?" The man asked incredulously, and Luke was glad to hear he'd stopped stuttering.

"Yes, eleven. Now can you please get this over with?"

The blaster lowered, and Luke's eyes followed it to the ground.

"I'm not gonna kill a kid."

Luke looked up at the man, "I'm not a kid! I've done as much as you have!"

The man stared. "I'm not gonna kill you, Kid."

A part of Luke wanted very much to stomp his foot and scream that he wasn't a child, but he realized how childish the impulse was. Instead, he did what his father would have done. He tried to understand the situation.

"If you don't kill me, what will you do with me?" he asked, turning to face the judge.

That man was staring down at him too. Then he gasped a couple of times and regained his composure.

"Y-you shall have to stay with someone."

All the Rebels in the stands drew back. Luke looked around quietly. He wanted his father. What would happen to him? Would anyone take him in? What if no one wanted to? What if, worse, they just wanted his father's gratitude? He wanted to do something to calm himself, maybe wrap his arms around himself, or cry for his father, or something. But his father wouldn't want that. Instead, he blinked hard, squeezing his eyelids tightly together.

He was horrified to feel a single tear trickle out. He wanted to swipe it away, but he didn't want them to know how scared he was. Suddenly, he felt something on his arm. He turned and saw the man with the blaster. He had one hand around Luke's arm. Standing next to him, Luke suddenly felt very small. He did feel like a child. He really wanted his father.

"I'll take him."

Luke felt a swell of gratitude. He wanted to hug this man. But his father wouldn't want him to do that. Besides, the man had been just about to kill him.

The judge nodded slowly, fingering Luke's lightsaber. It suddenly occurred to Luke how strange it was not to have it at his belt.

Trying not to sound nervous, Luke piped up, "Can I have that back?"

"No. No weapons."

"Then just take the power cell out! I got it from my father…" Luke tried to tell himself he was only speaking so pathetically to gain their sympathy, but deep down he knew it wasn't true. This was a strange, new, hostile world, and he wanted some tiny relic from home.

The judge took it out, and tossed it down towards Luke, who caught it.

Then the man took him by the arm and led him out of the court. Luke walked along beside him in a daze. He saw people staring at his face, and pulled his hood back up. He tried to regain his composure. Again he straightened his back and walked faster.

The man led him into a small room and pushed him down on the bed.

"Take your hood off."

Luke paused.

"Oh, go on. I've seen your face already." The man sounded exasperated.

Luke reached up with trembling hands and took his hood off. The man was looking at him kindly. He instantly wanted to cover his face again. For as long as he could remember, only his father had seen his face.

"What's your name?" He asked slowly.

"I'm Han."

"Are you always the executioner?"

Han shook his head. "Nah, he was busy. I got called in 'cause I have good aim."

Luke nodded slowly.

"You feel okay, Kid?"

Luke shook his head, "Not really."

"Have a lie down. I have to see about getting us somewhere that you can have a bed too." Han tucked back the blankets on his bed and ushered Luke to curl up under them.

Luke did as he was told.

Han patted his head and walked to a desk. He sat down and started calling one of the other Rebels, making arrangements for a new room. Luke tried to stay awake, to collect any potentially useful information. Soon, however, he slipped under the blanket of unconsciousness.

When Luke awoke, he and Han weren't alone. There was also a large, furry creature. Luke stared at it, bristling with nervousness.

Han turned to see him, "It's okay, Kid. This is my co-pilot, Chewbacca."

Luke relaxed a bit. He sat up.

"So, what are we going to do with you?" Han asked, looking at the small boy.

Luke shrugged. He wasn't used to being asked what he wanted to do.

"Why don't we go find something for you to do?" Han asked. "Play with some of the other kids or something?"

Something about the idea made Luke quake. He didn't want to leave this new place, this new protected bubble. "I'd rather get to know you first."

Han nodded, "Good idea, Kid. I don't even know your name."

"Luke."

Han held out his hand, mock-formal, "Good to meet you, Luke."

The corners of Luke's mouth twitched slightly, but he didn't smile. Instead, he shook Han's hand very formally before releasing. Then he sat back and looked at Chewbacca. He didn't know what to think of the furry, humanoid alien. His father had told him that all aliens were the enemies of the Empire, of course, but this one didn't seem to be a danger to society.

"So," Han started in, "Why do you wear a hood?"

Luke fingered his loose hood silently for a few moments, "Father told me to."

Han frowned, "What kind of parent would tell their kid to hide their face?"

"He said no one would take me seriously if they could see my face."

"Well, you are an ugly little blighter." Han teased.

Luke had never been teased in his life. Hearing his new friend say something so cold, so malicious, he turned away, not wanting Han to see his tears.

Han's smile dropped, "Hey, Kid, it's okay! I was just kidding!"

Luke felt tears racing down his cheeks.

Han grabbed the boy's shoulders, turning the child back to himself. Flustered, he stared at the tears on the boy's face. He was saved from trying to figure out what to do with the sobbing eleven-year-old Sith by Chewbacca, who stepped forward and took Luke in his huge, furry arms. Luke shook violently as he tried to hold back sobs.

Chewbacca had knelt on the floor to take the boy, and he cradled the child close, brushing away tears with one large, warm paw. He groaned something at the child, who let out cascades of further tears.

Han reached out and started stroking the frightened child's hair. Finally, Luke was able to calm down enough to hiccup back the last of his tears.

"Y-you didn't mean it?" He asked Han.

"'Course I didn't mean it! I wouldn't say something like that to you." Han soothed.

"I'm s-sorry, Han. I- it's just-well-No one's ever been kidding with me before. I thought you meant it."

Han stroked the boy's back again, "Of course I didn't mean it. Would you like to get some fresh air, Kid?"

"Mhmm."

"Why don't you go wash your face then. I'll take you out and we can do some target practice."

"I thought I wasn't allowed to have a weapon."

"Ah, we won't use blasters or anything like that. We have an ancient archery set outside. We found it when we moved into this base. They don't really count them as weapons. Probably 'cause Chewie here is the only one who can use them with any kind of accuracy."

Luke nodded, wiping the last of his tears away.

"Go wash your face, kid. Then we can go."

Luke nodded again. He stood up and allowed Han to lead him to the fresher and start wiping the tear tracks from his face.

Chewbacca stood in the doorway of the room, watching the proceedings passively. Luke looked up at him.

"Thank you, Chewbacca." He said quietly.

Chewie gave a soft howl.

"He says you can call him 'Chewie' instead. And he calls you 'cub'" Han translated promptly.

Again, there was a little tug at the sides of Luke's mouth. He had never had a nickname before. But only his father really spoke to him, and Father always called him 'son' or 'child' or 'boy', when he was angry. He rather liked being called something else.

Han wiped the last tear residue from Luke's face and led him out of the quarters he shared with Chewbacca. Luke quickly flipped his hood back up. He felt Han sigh, and pulled it forwards a bit more so that he had to tip his head back to see more than his feet.

Chewbacca moaned something, and Han nodded. Seeing Luke looking at him in confusion, Han explained, "He said he's going to pack up our things and bring them down so that we won't have to get them when they have our new space ready.

"I'm sorry." Luke said softly, turning to face his boots again.

"For what?"

"I'm a big hassle for you. You were all settled in there, and then you took me in and now you have to move."

Han shrugged, "Yeah, well, the walls aren't soundproof, and the guy next door snores."

For a third time, Luke felt the gentle tugging. He felt the budding smile start to win over everything his father had taught him. He bit it back. It had no place in his mind.

Han had noticed, though. "Why don't you smile?"

"Father said…" Luke started, but he was cut off by Han.

"Father said not to smile? Look at me, Kid. The way you explain it, it makes it sound an awful lot like your old man's just trying to keep you from being happy. I bet if I asked you why you don't talk you'd say-"

"That my father told me not to? Because he did."

"He didn't give you reasons for any of that, did he?"

"Yeah, he did actually. He told me people wouldn't take me seriously." Luke retorted. He didn't like the way Han spoke about his father.

"And why would you want to always be taken seriously? Don't you want to be able to joke around when you hang out with your friends?"

Luke looked at his black boots, "I've never had a friend before. That I can remember. Closest I've ever had is my troops."

"Troops!" Han exclaimed, "You're only eleven and you're commanding troops?"

Luke looked at his hands and murmured, "Since I was seven."

"Seven!" Han yelped, "Look at me, Kid. You're dad's trying to steal your childhood. What did you do before you were seven?"

Luke was rather frightened of Han now, seeing this anger in him, "I-I trained with my father!"

Han made a visible effort to control himself. "Be glad you got away from him. He didn't want what was best for you."

Luke tried to see that. He tried thinking that his father didn't have his best interests at heart, but in his heart he felt otherwise. He could still see his father's mask in his mind. He thought of his father's fury whenever anything put Luke in danger. When that thing was Luke, he scolded the child mercilessly, but when it was anything else, he destroyed whatever it was. Vader had always protected Luke, and the child knew it, but he didn't know how to make Han see.

"I love him."

Han nodded slowly, "Of course you do."

They walked in uncomfortable silence for a while. Then Han led Luke outside, and showed him the weapons. Luke selected a red bow, and several arrows. Han grabbed a greyish bow for himself, and another few arrows. Then he led Luke onto a shooting range, which was empty.

"Most of them have given up," Han explained.

Luke nodded silently.

Han showed Luke how to thread the arrow onto the bow, pull back and fire. The arrow he'd shot flew past the target.

Luke picked up his own bow and shot at the targets. It landed on the target, but not in the center. Luke sighed. It wasn't good enough. His father would be ashamed. He'd taught Luke to be good at everything he did, but Luke hadn't managed to hit the target. He picked up another arrow and allowed the disappointment his father would feel to run through him. As he rarely did, he felt the Dark Side's power course through him.

He was about to shoot again when he thought about just how very rarely he was able to draw on the Dark Side. How he was a Sith who used the Light whenever possible. His father didn't know. He would never see his father again, and his father didn't even know that Luke was hopeless at being a Sith. Father would never know.

Why was he so useless at it? Why did he have to feel his father's emotions to at all? Was something wrong with him?

He suddenly realized he was crying, tears tracing little tracks on his cheeks.

Father would be so angry! Luke had cried in front of Han twice today! There had to be something wrong with him. That would explain it. It must. He hid his tears from Han and drew on the Light.

Then he took one of his arrows. He put it to the string of the bow, pulled back and fired. The arrow sailed through the air and landed with a soft thwok in the middle of the target. Luke allowed himself a slight smile before reaching for the next arrow.

But his mind was racing. He was no Sith. He was hopeless. He could only draw on the Light, which his father called weak and pathetic. But he'd hidden that from his father. That had to count for something. Right?

Han had been watching the boy closely. He gaped.

"How did you do that?" He asked in amazement.

Luke let fly the next arrow, landing with a satisfying thud right beside the other arrow. Then he turned to Han. "Just like you showed me." He said quietly. Then he reached and took the next arrow. Again he pulled the bowstring back and released the arrow.

"And you're not ecstatic? You've done better than any of the rest of us! Even Chewie wasn't that good at first!"

"It's nothing important. I can just hit a stupid target nailed to a tree." Luke said. But inside, he felt a swell of pride. Han thought he was good. Han said he was the best at archery in the whole Alliance.

And he was good. That was nothing to be ashamed of, was it? He decided to see just how good he was. Choosing a single dot where someone else, presumably Chewie, had managed to hit the target. He drew on the Force again and shot. It sailed through the air and landed in the tiny hole. Again, he allowed himself a small smile.

He took the next arrow. He would erase his previous failure. Lining himself up carefully, he pulled the arrow back and let fly. It split the first arrow right down the middle, and both arrows fell off the board.

He felt a smile tugging at his cheeks, wanting to be a grin, wanting more. But Father always said that Luke looked too childish; too, what was the word? Innocent. Too innocent.

"You're kidding me, right? Most kids'd be dancing around screaming that they'd beaten everyone! Even the most modest would want to tell people about it!"

Again, Luke felt the quiet swell. But he didn't answer except to smile.

Han made a few more attempts before Luke started yawning hugely. Han took the boy's arm and walked him to their new quarters, where Chewie already waited with his and Han's bags.

Luke listened silently as Han left his new room. He looked around at the bare walls. There was a bed, a small dresser, a couple of chairs. It looked so much like his room back home. But it wasn't. Home had memories. This place… this place had nothing. He stood up and opened one of the drawers in his dresser. Folded neatly inside were several rebel uniforms. He wondered where they'd gotten child-sized uniforms before remembering that many aliens were more his height. He closed the drawer and walked back to his bed.

He lay down on the soft, beige blankets. Silently, he tucked his arms around himself and started to cry. What would his father think of him now? He'd accepted that he would be living with the Alliance for the rest of his life. He'd been proud of himself for topping them at some silly game. And tomorrow, he would put on a rebel uniform so that his Imperial one could be washed.

A knock came suddenly at the door.

Luke didn't answer. His father never knocked. He always came in, no matter what. He looked at the door and tried to imagine his father bursting through the door. He couldn't. He'd forgotten how his father's cape was attached around his shoulders. He closed his eyes again and tried to remember, the sobs coming harder, and more frequently.

The door opened. Han walked in and blinked at Luke's small form, snuggled on the bed.

"Are you all right, Kid?"

Luke moaned pathetically.

"It's all gonna be all right." Han promised. "What's wrong?"

"I w-want my f-father." Luke moaned.

"I know, Kid. I'm sorry."

"I've n-never been away from him o-overnight."

Han stared. "Never?"

"Not since I was tiny."

He'd taken a little kid away from his daddy for the first time in his life. Luke sniffled again. "What do you mean, not since you were tiny?"

"I lived with my aunt and uncle until I was about two." Luke explained. "Then my father found me. Well, his troops did. I d-don't even remember them."

"All these tears for a guy who doesn't even let you show your face in public?" Han asked, stroking the child's tears away.

Luke looked at Han sadly for a moment before shaking his head. "I always cry myself to sleep."

"Always? That's not healthy."

Luke sniffled. "I figure it can only be an improvement on the alternative."

"And what's the alternative?"

"I could love the pain I've caused during the day, like the Emperor. Or I could not care, like Father. And I-I do kind of know that father doesn't treat me right. I mean, when I was tiny, I remember wanting attention, and him not being willing to give it to me. Then I'd go to bed, and I'd cry for my aunt. I don't even remember her. I just know her name from all the times I've cried it."

Han wrapped his arm around the child's body, "What's her name?"

"Aunt Beru. I don't even know her last name. Father wouldn't let me within ten miles of any information about them."

"Beru?"

Luke sniffed again, and nodded, "Yeah. Beru."

"You think you'd recognise her last name if I said it? 'Cause there's a Beru around here who lost her nephew about nine years ago."

Luke looked up at Han, his face hopeful, "Really?"

"Yeah, should I call her?"

"Yes please!" Luke exclaimed.

"Don't get your hopes up, Kid. I could be totally wrong."

Luke nodded, but his excitement was still bubbling. He might finally meet the person he'd cried for as a little kid!

Han left the room, and returned a few minutes later with a kind looking woman with short, light brown hair.

She knelt on the floor before Luke. Luke bit back a sob. He didn't recognise her. He'd always thought he would recognise his aunt if he were to meet her again. But the woman kneeling at his feet was a stranger.

"Luke Skywalker?" That was his name. His full name, which he almost never heard.

Luke blinked back hopeful tears and nodded.

"Do you remember me?"

Slowly, Luke shook his head.

"I'm your aunt."

"I know."

"Are you all right, Luke?"

"I don't remember the last time I spent a night away from my father. I'm kind of homesick." He admitted.

"It'll get better."

"Thanks." He didn't feel particularly comforted, but it seemed like the right way to answer.

She stood up, and sat on the bed next to him. Han quietly sidled out, unnoticed. She ran her hands through his blonde hair.

"Has Daddy been treating you well, Luke?"

Luke shrugged.

"You really miss him?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to go back to him?"

"In some ways. But I kind of love it here too." Frankly, Luke's emotions were confusing him. He wanted his father desperately, but he didn't want to leave Han, Chewie, and this woman who might be his aunt behind.

"Well, if you have the opportunity to go back to him, I doubt you'll have to make the choice."

Beru pulled back the covers and carefully slipped Luke under them. Luke sighed tiredly and closed his blue eyes.

She stayed with him, stroking his back and speaking gently to him until he was asleep, and had been for quite some time.

Then she stood, and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

_Again, Han stood before the jury, his blaster pointed at the diminutive Sith. He heard him sentenced to death. Then he pulled the trigger._

_The small body fell, the wind catching his hood and tearing it from his face. Instead of the hideous appearance Han had expected, the face of a small child was displayed, a smoking hole in the middle of his forehead_

_Han raced forward, his mouth dry. This couldn't be right! It couldn't be! He had fired on a Sith, not a child! His eyes were playing tricks on him._

_But as he bent to touch the child's cheek, the child remained a child, not transforming itself into a vile monster._

_Han stared at the body._

_The boy's blonde hair looked untidy, as if he'd forgotten to brush it that morning. His eyes were a soft blue. His features were those of a young boy. But, marring the child's features, a few frown lines showed, as if he'd spent his whole short life worrying. His eyes were empty._

_But wait, no, they weren't. Not quite. And now his tiny lips were moving._

"_T-tell my father?" he asked, his voice tiny._

_How was he still alive? He shouldn't have been. It wasn't possible, was it?_

"_Tell your father what?" Han asked, wanting to promise this boy everything. He wanted to promise that he wouldn't die. He wanted to promise that he would protect the child. But already the last of the light was draining from his eyes._

"_What happened to me."_

_Han gulped, and nodded, "Who's your father?"_

"_Darth Vader." The child said weakly. Han's heart skipped a beat. Vader would kill him! But he looked back at the dying child. The boy's eyes were barely open now. "Please?"_

_Han couldn't refuse. He deserved to die for killing such a young child. He nodded slowly, and for a moment a slight smile crossed the boy's features. Han stroked the boy's hair. He watched as the last light flickered out of his eyes._

_The little boy's body was limp on the floor. Han ran his hand through the boy's hair one last time. Then he stood, taking the little body in his arms. He turned and left the court, not listening to the calls that they weren't done yet, that there had to be an autopsy._

_He didn't know why they would bother. It was already clear what had happened, they'd all watched. Hadn't they all seen the light fade from a kid's eyes?_

_He wouldn't tell Chewbacca. He boarded the Falcon. The tiny body in his arms felt like it weighed a million tons. But he knew it didn't. He knew that the boy was light. Children usually were. Under the boy's shirt, he could feel muscles, hard enough that it seemed that the boy spent his life working out. Han rested the boy's body on his bunk._

_Then he walked to the cockpit. He flew away from the Alliance, ignoring once again the voice of authority telling him to stay. He had a dead child on board. A dead child who had to be taken back to his father. He would fulfill his promise. It would be the last thing he did._

_He found the Imperial fleet with no trouble at all, broadcasting surrender, and a message for Lord Vader. He was allowed onto the largest of the Star Destroyers. He gathered the child's limp body and wrapped it in the cloak the child had worn. The other Imperials didn't have to know what he was delivering._

_He was led into Vader's private quarters. Vader stood wordlessly glaring down at Han. Then he waved one hand at the stormtroopers who had escorted Han. They turned and left. _

_Shaking, Han pulled the coverings away from the boy's face. He saw Vader start._

"_Son?" He asked uncertainly._

_Shaking harder, Han reached out to put the small body in Vader's arms. Vader took it, supporting it carefully. Han watched in agony as Vader pulled the coverings back farther, and began to stroke the dead boy's cheek, asking again, "Son?"_

_The boy's body was still. Han hadn't expected this. He had expected to hold out the dead child and then die himself. He hadn't thought he would have to watch the most evil man in the galaxy begin to mourn for his son. If he could cause this monster pain, did that make him a monster?_

_Vader was still caressing his son's cheek, repeating his question, as if trying to wake the boy. Han felt himself start to cry. No parent deserved this. No one deserved to have their child carried back to them, dead._

_He wanted to die. He wanted Vader to look up from the still body and choke him._

_But Vader didn't look up. He seemed dazed, still trying to wake his child._

_Han didn't know what to do. He wanted to do something. Something to honour the untimely death of the child. But there was nothing, nothing he could do. It was for Vader to care for any honours that his son would receive._

_So Han stood silently, waiting for Vader to turn to him._

_And finally, he did._

Han woke in a cold sweat. No. That hadn't been real. It couldn't have been. Vader had been about to kill him, he was sure of it. But he couldn't put the image of the little boy's body in Vader's arms from his head.

He crawled out of bed and walked into the hall, down to the room Luke had slept in. He entered. Good. There was the boy, fast asleep. And alive. So definitely alive. Han could see the blankets moving as the kid breathed.

He sighed in relief. Then he sat beside the boy, careful not to wake him. There were tears on the boy's cheeks. Han guessed that the boy had cried himself to sleep, as he'd said he would. Slowly, he started to stroke the kid's cheek, just like Vader had in his dream.


	3. Chapter 3

_Luke looked up at the trooper. He didn't know him. All he knew was that they had taken him away from his aunt and uncle. He started to cry and the trooper knelt down, hushing him._

_Luke wailed again. Again, the trooper hushed him. "It's all right, Luke." He whispered, "We're going to see Daddy. Don't you want to see Daddy?"_

_Wiping at his tears with his sleeve, Luke nodded tremulously. The trooper nodded back at him. "It's not much farther now. I bet he can't wait to meet you."_

_Luke sniffled, "Me neither."_

_Luke felt that the trooper was smiling behind his mask, "That's better. You'll see."_

_The trooper straightened back up. Luke started walking slowly. He didn't know what to think about seeing his father for the first time. He was nervous. Very slowly, he reached up for the trooper's hand._

_The white mask turned down towards Luke. Luke smiled hopefully back at the trooper. Black-gloved fingers tightened on the little bare hand that had been proffered. Luke smiled a little more widely. Then the trooper began walking again. Luke stumbled along beside._

"_Just a little farther now," the trooper encouraged him._

_Luke nodded determinedly. He began to march, his short legs unable to keep up with the trooper's normal pace no matter how hard he tried._

_Finally, he gave a short pull on the trooper's arm._

"_Yes?"_

"_Carry me?" Luke asked, holding up his arms._

_The trooper bent down and picked the boy up. Luke wrapped his arms around the man's neck. He could feel the man walking. At last, the trooper lowered him to the ground._

"_Daddy would want you to walk to go meet him."_

_Luke nodded._

"_I'm not going to come. I'll point him out, then you walk to him, all right?"_

_At this, Luke became slightly nervous. He didn't know what to do when he met his father. He had been counting on help from this man. He nodded uncertainly._

"_It'll be all right. Just wait and see."_

"_What're we gonna do?" Luke asked. "Me an' Daddy?"_

"_I don't know. He'll tell you, don't worry."_

_Luke nodded again before the trooper started to lead him onto the bridge. Then the man indicated a huge figure in black. Luke stared up at him. This couldn't be his daddy! He must have been a hundred feet tall! Luke walked forward. Maybe this guy was just going to tell him where his daddy was._

_He walked up and took the man's hand. The mask turned to face Luke. Luke shivered._

"_Hi. Are you my daddy?" he asked plaintively._

_Vader knelt, taking his son's hands in his own. "I'm your father, child."_

_Luke grinned widely and hugged his father, but the older man pulled him off immediately. "Not now."_

_Then he stood up again. Luke stared up at him. He sat down on the floor, and started playing with the leg wrappings of his boots. He was bored already. He hoped his daddy could stop doing what he was doing soon._

_After a few minutes, Luke rolled over to lie on his belly. He started breathing on the shiny floor and writing in the resultant fog with one finger. _

_After amusing himself in this way for a while, he stood up again. If his daddy didn't want to play with him, he'd go exploring. He toddled off around the bridge. He explored the deck for a while before looking down into the pits. It looked interesting down there. There were people working on huge machines. Maybe one of them would play with him._

_He decided that he had to get down and explore that space too. He looked for one of the machines that reached almost all the way up to the floor of the upper section._

_Luke stood up and moved over to it. Then he slowly poked his legs over the edge, cautiously letting himself down onto the machine. He was almost sure he wouldn't make it to the machine when his hands slipped. He let out a little exclamation as he fell. Then he landed, safe, on the machine._

_He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. Then he crawled to the edge of the machine and chose the next thing to slip onto. But one of the men saw him._

"_What are you doing up there?" he asked, reaching up and plucking Luke from his perch._

_Luke shrieked. His auntie had told him not to trust strangers._

_He heard his father running towards him on the above deck. The Imperial holding him placed him hastily back on the machine. Luke stopped screaming._

_Vader reached down and picked him up, placing him on the upper deck again._

"_Come, child." He commanded._

_Luke followed as quickly as he could. His father was moving awfully quickly. He was getting more behind with each step his father took. Suddenly, he ran after his father. He tripped and skidded until he ran into Vader's boot heels._

_Vader gathered his child up, stepping into his private lift. Luke wailed. Vader soothed him as best he could. As soon as he was sure his son was unharmed, he put the boy back down. He showed the boy into his quarters. Luke immediately hopped onto a sofa and started bouncing. Vader pulled the boy back off._

"_Your behaviour was inexcusable!"_

_Luke stared at his father, nonplussed. What did 'inexcusable' mean?_

_Luke found out. His father lectured him for almost an hour. And he didn't seem very sympathetic when Luke broke in to tell him he was bored either. After that, his father fed him, and put him to bed._

_His father was just finishing tucking Luke in when the child spoke up, "Daddy? Will you read me a story?"_

_Vader didn't even respond. Luke slumped. Being with daddy didn't look like a lot of fun in his opinion. Vader turned to walk out of the room, and bars suddenly appeared over the top of Luke's crib._

_Luke stared at them in surprise before starting to cry. His father turned._

"_Just a precaution. I don't want you running away. Clearly you're apt to get into trouble." Vader explained. Then he turned, and left the room._

_Luke stared at the bars. He wasn't sure he liked this. He wanted to go back out and play. He'd thought his father would play with him. But it didn't look like Vader was interested in that at all. He at least wanted to be able to communicate with his father. But Vader had left him all alone._

_He looked at the toys in his crib. Choosing one that reminded him of his teddy from home, he curled up in one corner of the crib, pulling the blankets over him again. He stared at the inside of his crib and began to cry._

_If this was having a daddy, he wasn't sure he wanted one. He wanted his auntie. She would play with him. And even his uncle had never locked him into bed._

_He cried harder and harder. He thought his father might have a monitor, like his auntie. But if he did, he wasn't using it. Finally, he was able to actually able to fall asleep._

Luke woke up. He found tears on his cheeks, residue from the dream. Han was sitting over him, carefully brushing the tears from his cheeks.

He hiccupped. He hadn't known he had memories of his first day with his father.

"You all right, Kid? Bad dream?" He held out a cup of water.

Luke sat up and accepted the water, taking a slow sip. He hiccupped again.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I-I'm not sure."

"Why don't you try it, and you can stop whenever you want."

Luke hiccupped again. "Okay."

"Go ahead." Han offered.

Luke hiccupped and told him.

At first, Han's expression was furious, but when Luke started to close himself again, he put an arm around the boy and waited.

When Luke was done, he was finished hiccupping. Han patted his back comfortingly.

"Was he always like that?"

Luke nodded, "Yeah, pretty much."

"You still got bars on your bed?"

Another nod. "I started thinking that was normal. But yesterday you already seemed to think my father was a total nightmare. So I decided that it was probably weird. He never let me go to the bridge with him again. He just thought I'd stay home."

"When did he start telling you not to smile, or talk, or show your face?"

"It was when he had visitors. He didn't like it if I sat there and talked with them, or if I cried when he got angry. So he told me that I shouldn't show my face or show emotions. He said that, as his son, I had to be stronger than that. So I just started wearing a robe."

"How old were you?" Han asked wonderingly.

"About three, I think."

Han sighed.

"And when did he ask you not to talk?"

"He told me my voice was too innocent and childish for a commander. So I was about seven."

"And you still miss this guy?"

"He's the only parent I can remember having."

"Your aunt is here."

"Han, I don't even know my aunt. I want my father."

Han nodded. "You think you're gonna be okay, Kid?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'm getting some more sleep. Had a bit of an interrupted night. You sleep too."

Luke nodded and lay back down, pulling the covers over himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Vader flew over the rebel base in his fighter. They had his son. They hadn't killed the boy, he could sense that much. But they had him prisoner. That was not acceptable.

He saw a few people turn to look at his ship in the skies, but they either turned away or waved happily at the apparently friendly ship.

Vader scowled. They were wrong. He wanted to shot a few of them, just to show, but then they'd put their guard up.

He flew around what looked to him like a landing pad. He was surprised when a couple of figures looked up at him, a ball sailing past one of them. The person instantly looked back down, and raced after the ball. Vader recognised his son.

He steered clear of the two children and landed. Before he could get out, he saw his son give the ball back to the other person, and say something to him before the man raced off. Vader climbed out of the cockpit and walked towards the child standing on the platform.

Luke seemed to have suddenly found the ground at his feet intensely interesting. He was studying it furiously.

Vader marched up to his son and took him by the arm, dragging him back to the fighter. Luke walked along willingly, stumbling a few times.

When he reached his fighter again, he dropped his son into the gunner's seat. Meekly, the child buckled himself in, while Vader closed the cockpit and took off.

He didn't speak a word to his son until they had rejoined the Imperial fleet in a nearby system. Even then, he dragged the boy back to their personal quarters before starting in on him.

He pushed the child down onto a sofa and glared at him.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he boomed.

Luke looked at his hands.

"Consorting with Rebels like that!"

Luke was silent.

"When you know very well the damage they've done to everything I've fought to create for you!"

It looked to Vader very much like Luke was trying to melt back into the sofa. The boy sat silently, squirming slowly back and starting to curl into a ball, as if to protect himself.

"And where's your hood?"

"I took it off," Luke murmured.

"You took it off? Whatever made you do that?"

"They were going to kill me, Father! They were going to kill me and they taunted that I was afraid to see death!"

Vader spun on his heel to face the child, "Then why aren't you dead?"

"Han said he wouldn't kill me because I'm still a kid!" Luke protested.

"Is Han the same rebel you were talking to on the platform?"

"Yes."

"Were you playing catch with him?" Vader asked disdainfully.

"Yes"

"Please tell me you managed to do something useful with your time there. Did you learn anything important?" Vader snarled.

"I barely saw anything." Luke mumbled.

"Did you hear anything?"

"No."

"Were you having fun? Were you looking forward to a nice long life with the enemy? Isn't everything I've built for you good enough?"

"Of course! It's not like that Fa-"

"You were enjoying yourself, boy."

"I thought I was going to die! I thought they were just going to wait until they felt they could kill me without being monsters! I thought I'd never see you again! I just wanted to be somewhat comforted beforehand!"

"So you went to be cuddled and comforted by your captors? You thought you'd show them your face, have a nice little talk?"

Luke felt himself start to cry. Inwardly, he panicked. It had been years since he'd cried in front of his father.

"What's this, tears? Did you cry for them too? Did you show them emotions, boy?"

Luke's tears came more quickly all the time. Vader snarled and watched his son hasten to brush them away.

"How did the Rebels manage to make you forget everything I've taught you in just two days?"

Luke didn't answer. He was still trying to hold back tears, as far as Vader could see. As Vader was just deciding that the boy had been utterly ruined by his time with the rebels, the child pulled his lightsaber off his belt and dropped it on the table in front of his father.

"There. I kept my lightsaber, I forgot everything else you've taught me. I'm hopeless and stupid. I'm ungrateful and you shouldn't be keeping me around. I nearly died and decided, apparently wrongly, that you wouldn't mind if I saw sunlight once more before it was all over. Happy? Can I go to bed?"

Vader stared at his son for a moment before taking the boy by his arm and leading him off to bed.

Luke lay down meekly, pulling the blankets up over himself. Vader activated the bars, which slid out of the bed, trapping his son. Then he turned and stormed off.

He brooded as he worked for a while before returning to his private quarters. As he walked, however, he heard his son sobbing.

He knew he should be angry. He was the only one who could teach the child to be a Sith, but something about the small voice of a child crying out into the dark was enough to keep him from storming into his son's room and telling him he was being stupid.

Instead, he opened the door, doing everything he could to silence the woosh of the breeze it made.

He needn't have bothered. Luke was too lost in tears to hear him enter, and he was curled up facing the other direction. Vader approached the bed slowly. His son hadn't stopped crying yet. He should have heard his father by now, Vader knew. But if he had, he showed no signs of it.

Vader made the bars on his son's bed open again. He reached out and turned the young boy over so that he was looking at his father. The boy's eyes were dull and he didn't stop crying.

"Child?"

"Why did you give me a name that you never use?" Luke asked.

"Luke?" Vader asked, realizing as he said it that his son was right. He never called his child by his name. "Are you all right, Luke?"

Luke wiped his tears from his eyes. "No."

"Neither am I. No one is, you know."

Luke nodded.

"And why should you be any different?" Vader asked.

Luke looked at him with a penetrating blue gaze. "I'm no different."

"You're not."

"But neither are you."

"No."

"If you died, the galaxy would celebrate."

"They would."

"But if I died, would they even care?"

"They would not."

Luke nodded. "And would you?"

"I would. I may seem harsh, Luke. But I do care."

The child gave a slight nod before putting his head back down on the pillow.

Vader stood, locking his son back in, and left the room. He and his son would have to fight to get along anymore, now that Luke had seen the rest of the galaxy. There was no chance that the boy would understand that everything his father did, he did for his child's good. But, Vader asked himself, did he even know what was best for his son anymore? The child had seemed genuinely happy with the rebels. What if the boy really preferred them? What then?


	5. Chapter 5

This was ridiculous, Han decided. On a criminal trial, he was being taken to see an eleven-year-old kid he'd cared for temporarily while his father was too busy ruling the galaxy to even care about him. The boy in question was walking alongside Han, seeming liable to reach out and take Han's hand at any moment. His hood was pulled down over his eyes, and his head was bowed.

Han reached down and took his hand. The kid looked up at him.

"It's going to be okay, Han."

Han nodded. "Yeah, I know, Kid. Where's Chewie?"

"They're bringing him as cargo. Sorry, I tried to get them not too. As it is, I think I got him marked 'fragile'."

Han frowned. He didn't like the idea of Chewie being regarded as an inanimate. He didn't like it at all. But the kid had done his best, Han was sure. It wouldn't help to get mad at him.

"They're going to officially make him my slave," the boy said, and Han felt him shake. "I'm going to free him as soon as possible, though."

"What's your dad think about all this?"

"He said it was a good test. Father doesn't like slavery any more than I do, Han. He won't mind at all if I free Chewie."

"Where are we going, anyway? I thought the prisons were back that way."

"They are," Luke shook harder, "Technically, you're my slave too. But I convinced them that you were human, so you were worth more."

"What about this trial I'm supposed to be having?"

"It's not exactly what they said it was. I have to prove to Father that you should be freed."

"And what if you can't?"

"Then it's exactly like if it hadn't happened. They'll send you off to prison and torture you and kill you. But you were so great to me. I'm sure I can explain that to Father."

"No offence, Kid, but your dad doesn't seem like the understanding type."

"He can be. When he wants to be, my da-father can be great. He just doesn't normally really want to be. It's the stress, Han; it's too much for _anybody_. You should see him whenever something goes right!" Luke looked up at Han with sparkling eyes. "When he's happy, it's so wonderful! We train together, and we can talk, and we play these old strategy games! I love it." He smiled wistfully.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't spend a lot of time happy, does he?"

Luke winced, "No. He's almost never happy. Less and less recently. Especially since I got back from the Alliance. I haven't seen him smile since."

"See? You can't see anything past that mask. Or does he take it off when he's at home?"

Again, a little of Luke's happy bubble seemed to disappear. "He doesn't. I've never seen his face. But I can sense whatever he's feeling. And I know how it feels when he smiles."

Han spent a moment trying to imagine Vader in a good mood. He quickly gave up. "So you live with this monster in hopes of seeing him happy once or twice a century?"

The last of Luke's happiness vanished, and Han found himself holding the sobbing child. "Yes! And I know it's stupid, and it's not worth it, but I know I'm the only one who _ever_ makes him smile! A couple of times when he really hurt me, he's offered to let me go! And I've always refused! And so now he doesn't ask! I just want a normal family! I want everything to be okay for us!"

Han held the boy, kneeling down before him, and pulling the child close. "It's okay, Kid. It's okay. It could be worse."

"How?" the boy wailed in despair. "He doesn't even show me anything like affection! Ever! He just doesn't care!"

"Hush, hush. It's okay. He does care. Look at you, you're safe and healthy. He provides for you, if nothing else."

Luke reached into his hood to swipe at his eyes. "He's still not much of a father."

"No, he isn't. You're right. But he could be worse."

"It could always be worse."

"Yeah. Now, we'd better get going before someone wonders where we are."

Luke nodded and straightened up. As Han returned to his feet, he saw Vader down the hall, watching the encounter. Something was muffling his distinct, heavy breathing.

Han watched as Luke turned, saw his father, and began to shake. Vader didn't speak, however. Instead he stood at the far end of the passage, apparently waiting for them.

Luke started towards his father. Han followed along. As they neared the Sith, Vader turned and lead them onwards through the maze of passages.

Han bent down and whispered in the kid's ear, "_I guess we were missed after all."_

"_Yeah,"_ Luke whispered back.

"_See? Your dad was the first to notice we were gone. He was worried about you. He came looking for you."_

"_I guess."_

Han straightened up to continue walking, and almost walked right into Vader, who had turned again, and was staring at them.

Han sidestepped just in time, bumping into Luke instead. Vader continued to stare at him, so he stopped walking. Then, without explanation, Vader started off again.

Han followed along, feeling Luke's small hand tighten on his. Vader led Han into what appeared to be his private quarters.

Vader spun on his heel. "Sit."

Han was unsure if the command was aimed at him or Luke, so he sat down on a sofa and pulled Luke down next to him. Luke didn't struggle, but he sat straight, staring up at his father.

"How dare you treat my son as your own family?" Vader demanded.

Luke appeared unfazed, but the hand his friend held was starting to sweat slightly.

"Kid needed someone to care about him."

"He _has_ someone!" Vader spun at Luke, "Or are my attentions not enough for you?"

Luke shrank back slightly, but as soon as his father drew back, he sat straight again.

"You? Ha! Locking the kid into bed? Making him fight in deadly battles since he was _seven_?"

Vader turned to his son again, "Did you tell your new friend_ why_ you've been coming on missions this long?"

Luke shrank back again, and this time he didn't sit back up immediately afterwards. "I don't remember, Father."

Vader turned back to Han, "There was an assassination attempt. I left my son here with a nanny droid, and someone tried to kill him. After that, it seemed to me that he was safer by my side."

Luke bent over to whisper in Han's ear, _"I'd forgotten."_

"_That's okay, you were too young to really remember that anyway."_

Luke sat back up, and from the way that Vader didn't ask what had been said, Han got the distinct feeling he already knew.

"And as for locking him into bed, did he tell you what kind of trouble he got into whenever I wasn't watching him? Sometimes it almost seems he's not worth the effort."

"Hey, that's harsh!" Han interjected.

"This boy has cost me the lives of more men than many star systems!"

Han turned and blinked at Luke. The kid seemed quite embarrassed. He melted against Han, trusting him not to let any harm come to him.

Vader continued to rage, "Clearly you, neither of you, understand the danger my son is in constantly! Obviously, you've never given a thought to how easy it would be to topple the Empire by killing my only child, the last person I have to live for! I am harsh with him, yes, but never without good reason! Do you think I like scolding him for having emotions? Do you think I enjoy watching him run into battle? Have either of you given a single thought to how I felt when he was stolen from me?"

Han sat still, gaping at Vader.

"I thought not. Do you have any more objections?"

Slowly, Han shook his head.

"Good," snapped Vader. "What do you want done with him, Son?"

Luke was still gazing up at his father. Han turned to look at the child, and saw that he was crying helplessly. Han slowly, tenderly stroked the tears away from the kid's baby-soft cheeks.

Luke opened his mouth, tried to speak, let out a loud hiccup, closed his mouth, opened it, and tried again. "You're just going to let me chose?"

"Yes. Clearly this rebel, at least, has some decency. You can choose what will happen to him and the wookiee."

Luke gave another hiccup before speaking. "I'd like them to be freed, please."

"Hey," Han interrupted, "Can I just ask something? Could we stay around here? We can take care of the kid so he doesn't have to go to battle. We'll make ourselves useful."

Vader seemed to be considering it. His head was tipped to one side, and he appeared to be studying Han closely.

"Yes. I will allow that. Your wookiee companion will join us soon. In the meantime, Luke, you make arrangements to get beds for your friends."

"What about you, Father?" Luke asked.

"This will be his chance to prove himself. I must oversee a battle." He turned, and left the room.

Han stared after him. He was stunned. Vader had just hired him to take care of Luke? It certainly seemed that way. But, no, it was ludicrous! He must have been having some crazy dream.

Luke pulled on his arm, and he stood up, head still spinning.

"See? I told you he's not so bad! It's all going to be all right now! You and Chewie will be safe, and Father won't have to worry about me anymore. That'll be less stress, so maybe he'll feel better!"

"Yeah. Maybe, Kid. I guess we just have to wait and see." Han allowed the boy to lead him around, touring the quarters, still trying to work out what had just happened.


End file.
